Thunder

There is a thunderstorm approaching. Every once in a while I hear a low rumble of thunder. No one else is paying attention. In fact, one neighbor is actually watering her flowers. But my PTWS (personal thunder warning system) is in high alert. She is panting and pacing. Checking the outside. Checking under the table. She would like it very much if I would stay in the same room as the girls so she could watch over us all. And being on the 3rd floor is NOT making her happy. The thunder, although distant is almost constant. If I didn't know her better I would think that she is channeling Lassie and Timmy is in big trouble. Heaven knows what she would do if faced with real storms like those recently visited on the mid-west.

I think if I were that scared I would be in the basement. But she is a pack animal and we are her pack. Nervous to the point of panting and shivers, she have nothing to do with petting and cuddles. She knows that won't help the thunder go away. She just needs to be with us. And watch. I am reminded that my domestic pet, who I talk to and play with, can't truly understand spoken language. I can't rationalize the thunder for her like I do for C. Frankly Greta doesn't buy the story about God bowling on the ceiling. And I don't know how to comfort her. Now that the rain is falling I think I will give in to her doggie pleas and head downstairs to 'safer' spaces. It is the least I can do for my PTWS.